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in a sea of plain faces— all as featureless as the ones Bond's Mr. Oliver saw on a dark, eerie night, but the difference was that it was broad daylight; a handful few would sigh at the feeling of bathing in light, feeling trapped in the dark.
in blacks, a sea of unknown faces, there were voids in my heart and each one a living night of its own, I couldn't see anyone's face because above their necks there was nothing but darkness, no eyes to stare, no lips to argue, no nose to scrunch, and then they all stood up to leave; bumping against my body, as if I was unwanted, unowned, orphaned, abandoned, deserted, and everything became strange, so strange.
I turned to the only face I could see, covered up in the smoke from the incense sticks, stuck inside a frame, wept and mourned with white-knuckled wails—
"firefly, you left soon, but the night is growing cold, no light to hold on, the sunrise seems faraway, why must fireflies die so young?"
I stepped close towards my place, But fell in invisible crevices on the ground, Filled with darkness of sad memories.. I went closer towards graves on cobblestones, Blotted with some connected names.. Reminiscence was swinging on those empty swings, And the doleful screams of joy was around... From pebble to pebble, I wandered around grape trees, Reminding me of redolent clarets, Which will now maybe smell as smoke.... Summer with yellow light and warmth left too soon, Even my vintage woolen cardigan couldn't save it, The winter came in the month of early June, With grey filter that took away all the hues....